


Heart Ache to Heart Ache

by supersleepygoat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Hospitalization, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 06:46:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16990026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersleepygoat/pseuds/supersleepygoat
Summary: You and Sam have not spoken in years. Your relationship ended on a sour note and left you more broken then you’d care to admit. You are struggling with the effects of a long-term illness when a chance encounter forces you to confront your past.





	Heart Ache to Heart Ache

You are sitting in your hospital bed and pinching the bridge of your nose. It’s bad enough you have to be here. But the fact they are making you share a room with Sleeping Beauty, is grating on your nerves. 

You glare at the couple next to you through the corners of your eyes. Prince Charming is all but hanging off her bedside. He is watching the delicate rise and fall of her chest while she sleeps. He waits for her to wake up with baited breath and worry in his eyes. He never once leaves his post as he watches over her. 

Normally, you would cut the couple some slack. But, she was admitted for a freaking broken leg and will be discharged in the morning. And yet, he is acting like she has only days to live. Plus, she is totally milking it. 

Before she fell asleep, you had to listen to a litany of baby talk and proclamations of everlasting love. You asked the nurse for an anti-nausea pill because you couldn’t take it. Nurse Ratched just laughed assuming you were joking. But she’s not the one who has sit here and try and to stomach watching young love blossom.

You weren’t always this cynical. You used to be that smitten kitten who hung on your Prince’s every word. But just like you did, Sleeping Beauty will soon find out that Prince Charming turns out to be a liar and an asshole.

The real reason you hate young love with such ferocity is because when you have nowhere to escape from it, it reminds you of what you lost. All the memories you spent years trying to bury flood back into you.

* * *

Sam searches the decrepit basement for you. There are a number of lifeless bodies chained to the walls and he fears you will be one of them. Last night, you never came back to the motel. He warned you a hundred times not to go out and look for the demon on your own. But, you never listen. 

He has been awake for the past thirty-eight hours straight. Both Dean and his heavy eyelids beg him to sleep. But he refuses to rest until he finds you safe and sound. He won’t let himself sleep until you are curled up next to him. 

You are not among the pile of lifeless bodies in the basement. While that gives him hope, his patience is running thin. He cannot continue searching in vain. 

Sam storms back up the stairs to where Dean is holding the demon at knife-point in a devil’s trap. Sam step into the warded circle and cracks the meat-suit’s nose without warning. 

“I’m only going to ask you one more time. Where the hell is she?” Sam’s worry is coming out as full-blown anger. 

The demon looks unfazed. He scrunches up his face as if he is thinking hard and trying to remember. “Ah yes!” the demon exclaims. “Your little bitch isn’t down there, sorry I just remembered,” he plays dumb. 

Sam takes the knife from his brother and shoves the blunt tip underneath the demon’s finger nail. He is done playing games. “I said I wasn’t going to ask again, and I fucking meant it,” Sam says as he twists the knife.

The demon groans in pain. Dean steps forward and pulls on his brother’s shoulder. He doesn’t care what happens to the hell spawn scum but he has never seen his brother this detached. Dean wants to find you too, but he doesn’t want Sam to lose himself in the process. 

Sam pushes his brother off of him. He continues working the demon over until he finally gives up your location. 

Sam rushes out of the back door. There is a pile of disturbed earth in the center of the backyard. He starts digging. He keeps digging. Dean comes out to help him and within minutes they hit a large wooden box. They hear the muffled sounds of scratching from inside. 

Sam pries the top off of the box to find your weak fingers have almost clawed a hole in the wood. A wave of fresh air invades your lungs and you spring up into a sitting position. You sputter for oxygen and try to calm your erratic heartbeat.

Sam lifts you out of your would-be-casket and carries you over to Baby. He orders Dean to go kill the demon and meet him back at the car in less than three minutes. Dean complies. 

Sam pulls you into his lap and looks over your broken body. You are covered in bruises, burns, and deep cuts. He holds you tighter in his arms and curses himself for almost being too late. He then has to stop himself from cursing you for going out on your own. Maybe after this you’ll learn to listen.

You have been fluttering in and out of consciousness the entire drive. Sam doesn’t believe a hospital will be enough. He gets you back to the motel and prays to Castiel. Within seconds the dark-haired angel appears by your side. 

Cas puts two fingers on your forehead. Sam watches the marks on your body disappear one by one. When you open your eyes, Cas takes his hand away. He is looking at you with a mix of perplexity and disappointment.

Before you can beg Cas to keep his mouth shut, he says the one thing you were hoping he wouldn’t. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I did not know about your condition. I’m sorry but is beyond the scope of what my grace can heal,” Castiel says loud enough for the entire room to hear.

You look over Cas’ shoulder to where Sam is staring at you with furrowed brows. You squeeze your eyes shut at the prospect of the unavoidable conversation you’re about to have. 

“Thanks for fixing me up, Cas. And, thanks for trying,” you say to your friend. You know he had no intention of spilling your secret so you don’t get mad at his mistake. You can see Sam fidgeting and shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Hey, um do you two mind giving us a minute?” you ask Dean and Cas. 

“Sure thing, kid,” Dean says as he pulls on Cas’ coat to get the angel to follow him outside. 

Once alone, Sam wastes no time laying into you. 

“What  _ condition  _ was Cas talking about?” Sam asks.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” you say as you push yourself out of the bed. You don’t want him to know how bad it is. You don’t want him to worry about you. 

“That doesn’t answer my question,” he informs you. 

You let out an exasperated sigh. It was bound to come out sooner or later. You may as well get this over with and move on. “I have Prolonged QT. It messes with the rhythm of my heartbeats and is what has caused some of my fainting spells in the past,” you admit. 

“I fucking knew it. I knew you weren’t just dehydrated! Why would you keep this from me?” Sam places his large hands on your shoulders as if you made of glass. He is looking at you like you may crumble into a helpless heap right in front of him. And, it’s pissing you off. 

“I was going to tell you… when I was ready. I have things more or less under control. I’m getting treatment and the doc assured me that I could continue my  _ active  _ lifestyle. So, you don’t need to worry,” you tell him in vain. 

“ _ More or less _ ,” Sam scoffs as he repeats your poor choice of words. He pulls out his laptop and searches your disease. He won’t take your word for it. 

“What are doing? Just stop…let’s talk about this. I’ll tell you all you want to know,” you try and pull him away from his computer. You know that whatever he finds online will only make it worse. 

“I can’t trust that you would tell me the truth. You have lied to me this entire time about your illness. Why should I believe a word you say now?” he says as he scans the screen in front of him.

His words hit you like freight train. He doesn’t trust you? You thought your relationship was built on the foundations of trust and support for the other. But now he is saying he can’t even hear you explain yourself because he won’t believe a word. When did the cracks in your foundation start spreading? You know this isn’t the first incident. For months now, he has been reluctant to let you make your own decisions on hunts and go off on your own. You’re on just now recognizing the pattern. He doesn’t trust you. 

Sam must not have liked the information he found. He runs his fingers through his hair and shakes his head. 

“Alright, this confirms it. You’re done,” Sam says as he slams his laptop shut. 

“Done what?” you ask as you put your hands on your hips. 

“You’re done hunting,” he informs you. 

You can’t help but laugh in his face. “You’re kidding, right?” He stands firm. “You’re not kidding,” you state as your face falls with realization. “You can’t just put me on the sidelines!”

“Watch me,” Sam says. He thinks his stubbornness will win this fight for him. He is sadly mistaken. “For too long I’ve been distracted on hunts and losing sleep over your reckless behaviour. Every day I never know if you’re going to get yourself killed! Now, I find out that you’ve been hiding this severe and potentially fatal disease from me? No. You’re done,” Sam repeats himself. 

“You can’t just decide that for me! It’s my life and it’s my problem, not yours! You can’t stop me from hunting. We’re in this together. We make decisions together. We’re partners.”

“No, Dean and I are partners. You’re just…” Sam stops himself before something hurtful slips out. 

“I’m what? Your tag along house pet? Your sidekick?”

“No,” Sam isn’t sure how to get out of the hole he has dug for himself. “I found you buried alive today, Y/N! For Christ sake, you were minutes away from being dead! Just make this easier on everyone and listen to me for once in your life,” Sam pleads with you. 

The memories of what it felt like to be buried alive silence you. It was the second worst thing to happen to you today. The first being the realization that Sam doesn’t see you as an equal partner in this relationship. 

Sam takes your silence as his cue to continue. “Please, I need you to do this for me. I can’t keep going like this. If you can’t do this for me, if you can’t quit to save your own life… then I don’t think I can stick around to watch you get yourself killed,” Sam admits his raw truth. The words pain him to say. But he refuses to keep his fears silent any longer.  

The tears that are pooling in your eyes threaten to spill over. “Would  _ you  _ do it? Would you give up hunting if I asked you to? Because we could do it. We could get out together. I never pictured myself having an apple pie life but with you, I can see it. I’ll stop… I’ll quit and leave this all behind, if you come with me,” you offer with false hope blossoming within you. You love hunting. But you love Sam more. You would walk away, if he walked with you. 

Sam sighs and you already know his answer. “Y/N, I have a job to do. I can’t leave Dean and Cas alone in this fight. You know I would do anything for you but-”

“Not anything,” you correct him. You know he would lay down his life for you. But, he refuses to  _ live  _ his life for and with you. You now realize you will always come second to his crusade. You want him, all of him. You would give up hunting for him but he refuses to even consider making the same sacrifices for you. 

Your tears are now falling freely. He steps toward you to wipe your tears away but you push him back. 

“You’ve made your choice. And, I’ve made mine,” you skirt around him and pack your things. 

“Where are you going?” he bellows as you approach the door. 

“I have a job to do,” you repeat his words back to him and leave the room. You step out into the night and out of his life. 

* * *

Sam straightens his tie as he pulls his large body out of Baby’s low door. 

“What’s this chick’s name again?” Dean asks his brother.

Sam roll his eyes. “How many times do we have to go over this?”

“Once more,” Dean says with a coy smile.

“Jill Freuh. She’s the sole survivor of the supposed ‘bear attack’ last night,” Sam informs his brother.

“Yeah yeah! I know who she is, I just couldn’t remember her name,” Dean defends himself. 

The boys walk through the hospital halls. Dean checks out a group of passing nurses. Sam nudges his brother’s shoulder to keep his focus forward and on the task at hand.

Dean leans against the nurses’ station and turns on the charm. He asks where they can find Mrs. Freuh. The blushing nurse scurries away to find an answer for the handsome FBI agent. While she’s gone, Dean can’t help his curious nature. He starts flipping through the nurses’ patient log. 

“Dude, Quit it. She’ll be back any second. You better not blow our cover because you couldn’t stop snooping,” Sam chides at his brother. 

Dean doesn’t hear a word Sam says. His attention is fully focused on the simple lettering that will shatter life as he knows it.

_ Y/L/N, Y/N: 485 _

He debates whether or not he should say anything. He spent months after you left putting Sam’s broken heart back together. It’s been years since either brother has seen or heard from you and he figured no news was good news. But now you’re here, in the hospital. Before you left, you were one of Dean’s closest friends. He cannot leave without finding out you are okay. 

“Hey, Sammy… why don’t you get started on talking to the victim. I’ll go find the cafeteria and get us some grub,” Dean tries to come up with a cover for his absence. He needs to check on you but doesn’t want to subject Sam to a painful reunion. 

“Dude, we just ate! You can’t be hungry already,” Sam says with disbelief in his voice. Just then, Sam notices where Dean’s fingers are nervously picking at the nurse’s notebook. His eyes go wide as he sees what his brother was trying to hide from him. He reaches over and snatches the book from Dean. He inspects the lettering to make sure he wasn’t just seeing things. 

Sam throws the notebook back at his brother as he strides down the hall with purpose. 

“Sammy!” Dean yells after his brother but he knows it would be a losing battle to try and stop him. He lets his brother go alone. This is something you two need to in private. You could kiss and make up or kill each other. Either way, you don’t need an audience for whatever is going to come out of this reunion. 

Sam finds room 485. Every bone in his body is screaming at him to open the door and check to see if it is really you. But, he can only stand there frozen. He has spent the past three years trying to forget you. He has convinced himself that you went out and found yourself a better life. If that illusion shatters, then he’s not sure he can go on pretending he is fine. 

Sam’s fingers wrap around the door handle and he pushes inside. The creaking door alerts you to someone’s presence. You grab the knife you keep under your pillow. Sleeping Beauty and Prince Charming left hours ago. You’re not expecting any visitors and the doctors have already made their rounds. You’re not taking any chances with this surprise visit. 

You recognize a familiar silhouette on the other side of the curtain, but it can’t be him. As this white veil is pulled back, your knife clatters to the ground. It is him. 

Sam takes in your appearance. You look so fragile in your hospital gown. Your hair may be longer and your face is a little thinner. But it is still you. You are still as beautiful as he remembered. He still finds your look of stunned silence to be the cutest thing he’s ever seen. 

You are hooked up to different machines that are monitoring your heart rate. So, he resists the urge to lift you from the bed and hold you in his embrace, lest he risks unplugging one of the machines. Also, he isn’t sure how you would react to such a greeting. 

“Sam,” you breathe out. The name is foreign yet familiar on your tongue. You haven’t let yourself speak it in years but it still holds the same comfort it always did.

“What happened?” the concern in his voice is thick enough to taste. 

“I’m assuming you’re in town for the Wendigo too. Is Dean here?” you deflect his question with your own. 

“He’s here. Now, what happened?” 

“My doctor warned me that physical and emotional stress can trigger a heart that is sensitive to prolonged QT to spin out of control. I guess it finally caught up with me,” you answer. You try and keep your tone light but can’t help the dejection from coming through. 

“Emotional stress?” Sam knows you are no stranger to physical stress. He hates the idea of you putting yourself in physical danger. But, he knows it comes with the job, especially if you were on a Wendigo hunt alone. So, he is more interested in what you mean my emotional stress. 

“Yeah…” you trail off unsure of how to explain yourself. “After we – after our – after we broke up things got worse. The pain I was in caused irregularities in my heart’s rhythm. For the past few years, I haven’t been responding to my treatments as well as I have in the past. That means, that when I got knocked around by the Wendigo… it triggered a seizure,” you admit. 

You can see the guilt in Sam’s eyes. He is blaming himself for what happened, all of it. Your break up. Your worsening condition. Your seizure. Your hospitalization. Everything. He is putting all of that weight on his own shoulders. You hate watching him ruminate in his own negative thoughts. 

“Y/N… I’m so… I’m so sorry. I never meant-”

“Sam stop,” you reach your hand out for him to take. He is hesitant but can no longer resist the urge to feel you. He slips his hand into yours and you absorb the other’s warmth and comfort. “This is not on you. I chose to leave.”

“But I didn’t stop you. I should have stopped you. I think about that night every day. Had I of stopped you, you wouldn’t be here right now. You wouldn’t have been on this hunt alone and had a seizure. You wouldn’t-”

“This is not on you,” you repeat yourself. “None of this is your fault. Our break up may have had a domino effect but none of this is on you. I’m sick. Everything that I’m dealing with is the QT’s fault. Not yours,” you squeeze his hand to punctuate your words but he still refuses to look up at you. You know no matter what you say he will continue to drown in his own guilt. 

You cup his cheek with your hand. He leans into your touch and turns to kiss your wrist. You don’t pull away. He takes his free hand and pushes a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again in whisper.

“I told you, you don’t have to be sorry,”

“Not just about this,” Sam gestures to your hospital gown. “But for everything else. For letting you go. For trying to control your decisions. But most of all, for not getting out with you while I had the chance. It is a choice I have regretted every day,” he says as he places another chaste kiss to your knuckles.

“We both know we wouldn’t have lasted more than a week in suburbia,” you try and lighten the mood. “We’re hunters. Always have been. Always will be.” 

“The family business,” Sam reiterates. 

You nod in agreement. 

“But Y/N, you are a part of that family. You are my family. I can’t keep doing my job without you next to me, fighting alongside me. We’re partners. I don’t know why I couldn’t see it before. I have been much more distracted and sloppy on cases since you’ve been gone. I will regret leaving you for the rest of my life and I’ll understand if you want me to stay away. But I can’t leave you again without at least asking if you’d consider coming back to me,” he pleads with his word and his eyes.

You have always been helpless against him when he breaks out the puppy dog eyes. You know you have a lot to talk about. There are a lot of cracks to be filled and trust to rebuild. You both have no doubt grown up in these three years apart. There is no guaranteeing you can slip back into the way things were. But maybe, maybe things will be better than they were. 

Instead of a verbal reply, you pull him in for intimate kiss. Neither one of you tries to turn it into anything more. You merely let three years of missing the other be felt in that simple kiss. When you pull away, you can’t help but giggle at his wide smile. Sam’s heart soars at that soft sound. 

The machine on your left starts beeping. You assure him it’s nothing and it does that every hour to calibrate itself. He trusts you but insists you rest nonetheless. You settle back in your bed. 

“Will you be here when I wake up?” you ask not wanting to sound too needy but you’ve always slept better when he was nearby. 

Sam pulls up a chair beside your bed. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers before taking your hand in his. 

Sam is all but hanging off your bedside. He is watching the delicate rise and fall of your chest while you sleep. He waits for you to wake up with baited breath and worry in his eyes. He never once leaves his post as he watches over you.

  
  



End file.
